Spyglass
by Empatheia
Summary: Collection of drabbles and oneshots done for a LiveJournal community. All characters, all ratings, any pairings or situations.
1. A Rose, By Any Other Name

**A/N: **Written for the **ouran-contest **community on LiveJournal. Week 1, drabble challenge topic 'roses.'

OoooooO

**Title: **A Rose, By Any Other Name

**Rating: **K

**Genre:** General, Romance

**Pairings or Characters:** Tamaki-centric, hints of Tamaki/Haruhi.

**Warnings: **Sobriety from Tamaki! gasp WAFF and super-fluff abound.

**Summary:** Tamaki explains his obession with roses.

**xoxoxoxoxox**

_**A Rose, By Any Other Name**_

**xoxoxoxoxox**

Tamaki loved roses.

It was a well-known fact, and whenever he said it out loud to anyone with any attempt at seriousness they tended to just laugh at him. _Of course you do, Tamaki. Everyone knows that._

Tamaki had long ago given up trying to explain his obsession with roses. Thus, it was a great and pleasant surprise for him when Haruhi, wide-eyed and curious, asked him straight out why he loved them so much...and _listened._

"They're like..artistic representations of humanity," he started, haltingly. "There are so many different types of roses, and they each need their own type of living conditions to prosper, just like people. They have all sorts of different petal colours and leaf shapes. Some grow only one blossom at a time to a bush, and others have huge communities. Some are always crawling and reaching for new places and new things to touch and learn about, while others are content to be master of their own patch of soil. All roses have thorns and can be hard to get close to, but even so they are all beautiful. Even when they're wounded or dying, they're beautiful."

Tamaki walked over to the nearest table and pulled a long-stemmed pink rose from the arrangement. "This one reminds me of you, Haruhi. Its thorns aren't very big, but they hide among the leaves so you don't see them until you're already too close. You don't mind being around others, but your true mind you keep to yourself, preferring to stand alone than be just one of a multitude." Walking closer, he snapped off the greater part of the stem and tucked the remainder behind her ear. The flower settled into her hair like it was meant to be there, petals unfolding to tangle in her hair.

Haruhi stared at him in fascination. "You're right," she said quietly, and faintly blushed a familiar colour.

Tamaki smiled. He _loved_ roses.

**xoxoxoxoxox**

**A/N:** I hope you liked it!


	2. Obsession

**A/N: **Written for the Week 1 one-shot challenge at the **ouran-contest **community on LiveJournal. This week's topic was 'fangirls.'

XoxoxoxoxoxoX

_**Obsession**_

XoxoxoxoxoxoX

There was a particular art to being a fangirl.

Most people didn't know this. They thought a 'fangirl' was simply a stark-raving-crazy young woman obsessed with something utterly unattainable. They were right, of course, but where was the beauty in that? Oh, no. It was much deeper and more artistically appreciable than that. Renge understood.

Her love for Kyouya went far beyond the shallow, publicly accepted version of fangirlism. Her obsession was to ordinary, run-of-the-mill fangirling what Van Gogh was in comparison to the neighbour's two-year-old's finger-paintings.It was an _art form._

Everyone knew that truly great art survived undiminished through the ages.

Thus, in the interest of posterity, Renge had now decided to commit the ultimate act of the ultimate fangirl. Future fangirls had to have something to look up to, after all. The fangirls of now would have little fanbrats, and they would need a good role model such as herself to shape themselves after. It was her righteous duty! She had to pass on her legacy!

Kyouya wouldn't like it. In fact, nobody at all would like it. Renge didn't care. Properly worshipping someone had nothing to do with what _they _wanted, after all.She was going down in the history books as the biggest, scariest fangirl of all time. Nothing in the world could stop her. Nothing!

She cackled and ran her fingers through her hair. The scissors in her other hand went _click, click, snip._

"Neh, Haru_hi_," Tamaki whispered. "Isn't there something a little..._straneg_ about Kyouya lately?"

Haruhi looked up at him quizzically, neck at an odd angle. She was not impressed with being shoved into a curtained corner of the Third Music Room without even a semblance of a request. Just grab and yank and pull and shove, that was Tamaki's style. It drove her insane. "Kyouya-sempai? No, there's nothing wrong with him."

Tamaki's eyes widened and he leaned into her face, staring earnestly at her without blinking. "He _giggled_, Haruhi. Kyouya. He giggled. How is this not an emergency?"

Haruhi rolled her eyes. "Tamaki-sempai, if you can't figure it out, I'm not going to waste time explaining it to you. Pay a little closer attention and see what you find." She pushed the stunned blond out of the way and left the room.

Tamaki hid behind the curtain again and peered around to watch Kyouya.

The dark-haired vice president was standing in the center of a group of girls, chatting amiably. Scary thing #1. He was nowhere near a laptop (#2), and his glasses were crooked (#3). Tamaki suppressed a shudder of unease. Something was very, very wrong with Ohtori Kyouya, and Tamaki was caught in a dilemma.

He wanted to find out what was wrong, of course. He was voraciously curious at the best of times. However, he also wanted to be as far away as possible when the foreboding feeling he had came to fruition. His fingers wandered to his mouth and he nearly bit his tongue off in stopping himself from chewing on the nails.

What to do, what to do? Investigate, or run?

"Ohohohoho!" Kyouya chortled, and Tamaki choked.

He couldn't take much more of this. "Kyouya!" he said loudly, and stormed aristocratically into the middle of the room. "Why have you changed so drastically? Has something of great import happened, and you failed to tell me? Oh, my vice-president, prince, my right hand! Why have you left me out of the loop? I feel so neglected!" Tamaki hunched his shoulders and dramatically wiped a tear from his left eye.

Kyouya stared at him and nervously adjusted his uniform. "I haven't changed, Tamaki-sempai," he said in what basically amounted to a simper. "It's me, the same good old Kyouya! Eheh!"

Tamaki wailed and draped himself across Kyouya's shoulders. "Don't lie to me! You're completely changed! Have you lost a family member? Have you hit your head? Have you...fallen in _love_?"

Kyouya stiffened. "Well, you know about Renge and I...it's really nothing new..."

"But you _hate_ her! You always tell me she creeps you out!"

Suddenly, Kyouya's eyes filled with unexpected tears. "Don't talk about Renge like that! She's a wonderful, devoted, loving girl and I couldn't ask for better!"

Tamaki felt like bursting into tears himself. Who was this, and where had his mysterious, creepy, nearly-silent computer-brain vice-president gone? "I don't get it!" he howled, tearing at his perfect golden hair.

"Oh, for goodness' sakes, Tamaki-sempai," Haruhi said from behind him. He spun around to find her with her hands on her hips and a decidedly unimpressed look on her face. "You mean to tell me you _still _haven't figured it out?"

"Figured _what _out?" Tamaki wailed.

Haruhi turned to Kyouya and grimaced. "Having fun, Renge?"

'Kyouya' giggled nervously and backed up. His glasses slipped, and Tamaki suddenly realized that they were the wrong shape. Kyouya's were slightly more oval than that.

Haruhi followed 'him' back step for step. "First of all, where's the real Kyouya-sempai?"

Tamaki gaped.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Kyouya said shakily. "I'm right here!"

Haruhi did not look convinced. "First of all, I'm pretty sure last time I check Kyouya-sempai didn't have breasts. You can tie them up all you like but you can never quite hide the unique shape of a girl. _You _are a girl, and Kyouya-sempai definitely isn't. So, where's the real one?"

The glasses fell off. Even Tamaki could see now that the eyes were the wrong shape, the face was wrong, everything was wrong. It wasn't Kyouya. How had he missed it?

"Is that a wig, or did you actually cut your hair off and dye it black?"

"It's real," Renge confessed, running her fingers through her new style. "Doesn't it suit me, though?"

"No!" Tamaki blurted, then looked shamefaced and covered his mouth.

"_Where's Kyouya-sempai?_" Haruhi demanded, annoyed now.

Renge hung her head. "I'll show you."

OoooooooO

"Why did you do it, Renge?" Kyouya asked softly as Tamaki and Haruhi frantically worked to undo the chains around his wrists and ankles. The room was comfortable enough, fully equipped with video games and fridges full of food. That did not change the level of _creepy_ one iota.

Renge traced designs on the floor with her foot. "I will go down as the great fangirl who ever lived!" she said half-heartedly. "I went beyond mere obsession! I actually _became _you, even if it was just for a day! What other fangirl can say that?"

Kyouya stood and massaged his wrists, blank-faced as usual. His eyes were fixed on Renge, however. She was spectacle-free, but the coloured contacts remained, and her hair was a mirror image of Kyouya's. Her chest was still bound and she wore a men's uniform. She actually looked like quite a passable imitation of him, if one did not focus too hard on the details.

Kyouya would not stop staring at her.

"Um, Kyouya?" Tamaki ventured tentatively.

The vice president lurched forwards a couple steps and ran his fingers through Renge's hair. "Beautiful," he whispered.

Tamaki and Haruhi froze dead and could not move. Kyouya did not praise people, _ever_. Certainly not Renge! Tamaki felt chips of himself flaking off, he was so rigid.

Haruhi, however, was quicker on the draw and comprehended the situation a split second later. "_Oh,"_ she said.

"Oh _what?_" Tamaki squeaked.

"What kind of person would Kyouya be attracted to, do you think?"

Tamaki turned his stiff neck with effort. "Kyouya? Attracted? The only person he loves is himself, everyone knows--_oh."_

"Yeah. _Oh _is right."

"_Oh. Ohhhh."_

"With all due respect, Tamaki-sempai, shut up."

"_Beautiful..." _Kyouya whispered.

"You too!"

XoxoxoxoxoxoX

**A/N: **Why is it so hard for me to write serious fic for Ouran? Every time I try, it comes out floofy anyway. Le sigh.


	3. Scherzo

**A/N: **Week two drabble challenge, 'invitation.' Haruhi-centric. The title is a musical term, used to describe a piece that is joking or prankish.

**xoxoxox**

_**Scherzo**_

**xoxoxox**

There was a door, a door to a heart, an old, locked, wooden door.

It was not a very large or strong door, but it was dusty with age and lack of use and so it took a long time to open, even when she set her mind to it, she whose heart it was. There were locks on it, seven of them, all with different shapes...and names. The largest one was ornate and tarnished silver, and its name was 'Father.' There was another named 'Mother,' made of gold, and smaller ones of brass with miniscule names carved onto them. They were beautiful locks. All said, it really was a quite a beautiful door altogether, as doors went.

What was behind it was even lovelier, but few had ever seen it.

Haruhi had buried the keys underneath a tree with images (_lipstick above a freshly shaven chin, gnawed corners, falling snow and glaring streetlights_) for leaves, and had forgotten where it grew.

Nobody had really wanted in to the little room behind the dusty door for a long time anyway, so what use were the keys? It was best that they remained hidden. Yes, it was definitely for the best.

_Knock, knock_.

She felt like telling them it was useless, the door wouldn't open, not without an explicit invitation from her.

How was she to know they'd brought hairpins and crowbars?

_Knock, knock._

_Who's there?_

_Company! We invited ourselves, hope you don't mind._

Haruhi didn't. She stared at the splintered remains of the door to her heart, and smiled.

**xoxoxox**

**A/N: **I hope you liked it!


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